Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(16)

His arm bangs into mine, but I clutch the knob first, smile widening.

Maximoff barely steps back, squeezing his build against my build. “I thought I told you that I open my own doors.”

“Number 52 on your list of rules. I remember.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I remember everything…but see, this is our door.”

His forest-greens drop to my mouth and my lip piercing. He also layers on a half-hearted glare. “Pretty sure for my things to become your things, we’d need a legal binding agreement.”

Shock ratchets up my brows. “Marriage?”

“No,” he says definitively, shutting that down.

I roll my eyes. I know he’s exaggerating his point, but he’s more defensive than usual. “Technically, you don’t own the lake house,” I tell him. “So it’s not even your door.”

Maximoff groans and sends a daggered glare to the ceiling.

“Was that glare meant for me or the light fixtures?”

“The lights,” he says. “This is for you.” He gives me a middle finger.

I laugh a short laugh, and just as he tries to reach for the knob, I turn it and swing the door open.

Oscar Oliveira stands on the other side, brown hair curly and damp like he just showered. He steadies a cream cheese bagel near his mouth.

Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, Maximoff looks ready for hell and back. His resolve is fucking sexy.

I tell Oscar, “I didn’t sign up for the Oscar Oliveira Wake Up Call.” I lean on the door frame.

Oscar’s eyes drift from me to Maximoff, who stands rigid only one-foot away in boxer-briefs. His muscles are front-page-worthy, his defined V-line disappearing beneath his waistband. His lips are a little reddened from earlier, and his usually combed hair is wild and unkempt.

Mine isn’t much different. I smooth my hair back with two hands.

Oscar fastens his gaze on me, not able to restrain a smile. “It’s almost growing on me. You two…together.” He bites into his bagel. “Though I didn’t realize you like them young, Redford—”

“You don’t realize a lot of things, Oliveira,” I cut him off, “still, we try not to hold it against you.”

He laughs into another bite.

Maximoff stands sturdy, layering on authority like he’s commanding a boardroom. “I’m not young or na?ve,” he says, his firm tone instantly quieting Oscar. “And if you’re here just to shoot the shit, tell me. Because I could be sleeping.”

Okay, that was hot.

Oscar wipes cream cheese off the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “I’m here as a courtesy.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Oscar licks his thumb, but his expression is more serious. “Lily and Lo just got here.” He looks at Maximoff. “Your parents said they’d wait until you woke up to talk, but I thought you’d appreciate an extra warning.”

“Thank you,” he says, grabbing his jeans from the floor.

“No problem.” Oscar flashes a wince at me. “Boyfriend’s parents are already pissed at you, Redford. I don’t envy your position.”

I’d say parents love me, but I’m not a liar or a kiss ass. And I’m painfully certain that I’ve fallen onto Loren Hale’s permanent shit list.





5





MAXIMOFF HALE





Whatever I planned to say, whatever I thought I’d feel—it all just disappears when I see my dad. He paces from the living room fireplace to the window. Pauses. His hand balls in a fist. He glances towards the kitchen.

Looking. And longing for something.

Not someone.

I’ve seen that craving before. A look that screams, just one drink. For as long as I’ve been alive, he’s never fed that demon. Never sipped alcohol.

Never broke sobriety.

But he’s looking again.

I stand on the second floor balcony that oversees the living room with vaulted ceilings and skyscraping windows. Sunlight pierces leather furniture and wooden floors, and outside, snow dumps hard in the cold morning.

I can’t help but think about everything I unloaded on him at the Charity Camp-Away. When he didn’t believe me about the rumor, I yelled at him in a way that I never do. I showed my disappointment. I iced him out.

Wounds are still open. Freshly cut. And what if I pushed him? What if I caused him hurt so deep that he’d want to numb it with whiskey?

My chest is on fire.

I death-grip my phone, and I loosen my clutch at the sight of a rugged and brooding Ryke Meadows. My dad’s half-brother who’s one year older.

Any anger I had at Ryke’s reaction towards my boyfriend—it takes a backburner right now. I’m glad my uncle is here in case my dad needs him.

Connor Cobalt saunters confidently past the leather couch to reach my dad and Ryke. I didn’t think my uncles would join my parents at the lake house, but as they place a hand on my dad’s shoulder and speak toughly but calmly—I realize they’re here for him.

They’re his support. And my dad isn’t okay.

“Moffy,” Connor says and angles his body towards the balcony. All their eyes meet mine.

Spotted.

My dad rubs the back of his neck. His cheekbones as sharp as ice, and brows pinched in a multitude of tangled emotions. “Can we talk?” he asks.